


Admonition

by ndnickerson



Series: Red Label [17]
Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kink, Masochism, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy has always known something could happen, but that doesn't make it any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OzQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/gifts).



Nancy was crying in her sleep when her husband woke her.

She gasped in a breath and Ned's hand was on her belly, rolling her onto her back, and her fists were still clenched, her legs tucked up, half-fetal. She blinked and cold fat tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked up at him, and he was just a silhouette in the dark.

"Hey," he whispered in greeting, a rough smile in his voice. Jamie was still asleep in his cradle in the corner, and Ned was already naked. The scent of his sweat and musk, close after another of his fifteen-hour shifts, reached her and she closed her eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, and when Ned cupped her hips and started to slide her shorts and panties off, she arched and then pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her naked. She raked her hair back and opened her legs, and Ned knelt between her thighs, gazing down at her.

"Nan?" He searched her face, his smile fading a little, then leaned down and kissed her temple, his tongue flicking against her skin, tasting the salt there. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"It's okay," she whispered, squirming in his arms to shift the angle of her hips.

"What's wrong?" His mouth was against her ear, and his tongue slid against the lobe and she shivered, sliding her arms around his shoulders.

"Nothing," she moaned. "Shh. I don't want him to wake up."

He slid his hand between her open thighs and over the slick folds he found there, curved his fingers up and inside her as he kissed the tears away, and when she was ready he twisted his hips and pushed slowly, smoothly inside her. She gasped in a breath and kissed his shoulder, her nails digging into his shoulder blades.

He bent his head. "Tell me," he gasped, pushing between her thighs in a particularly hard thrust.

"Ned..."

She arched under him and he cupped his hands around her ass, and when her only answer was a gentle bite at his nipple he pushed her knees back and slid inside her until his hips were against the hard line of her inner thighs.

"Tell me," he whispered, grabbing her hands and forcing them up and over her head, pinning them against the pillow. "Nancy..."

She shook her head and planted her heels against his back, forcing him to shift even deeper inside her, and twisted her hips until he was panting for breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm not going to forget," he whispered as he pulled back, and she whimpered, writhing under him as he thrust into her again and again, her mouth falling open in a long silent scream. She bucked hard against him and managed to free one hand to dig her nails against his spine, trailing down as far as she could, and when he slowed she quickened the rock of her hips under his, panting, until his hand slid between the sweat-slick curve of their bellies and he hooked his thumb between her lips, circling her clit.

She let out a low, gasping chuckle, her hips jerking up against him, her shoulders jerking, and she pressed the points of her nails into his wrist, baring her teeth and her throat as she clenched against him, hard and deliberate.

"Love, tell me you love me," she gasped out, quietly, making soft encouraging sounds as he stroked her clit.

His fingers were slowing, the slick press of his cock inside her was slowing, as he looked down at her. "I love you," he growled against her ear, nipping at the lobe, nipping down her neck. "I love you," he whispered, and he pushed inside her again, deep and slow so that she tightened and sighed under him, drawing in a sharp breath edged in pain as he flicked his thumbnail over her clit.

"Was it that I didn't love you?"

She looked up at him, her brows drawn together, and at the quiet sympathy in his gaze she felt that thick swelling prickle of tears in her throat again, felt her eyes glaze again.

"Don't," she whispered, turning her face away from him, closing her eyes.

He shifted back and thrust again, and her hips moved instinctually to his, her hand slack under his as he kept it pinned to the pillow. The gentle flutter of her orgasm swelled as she unlocked her ankles and traced her knees up his sides as she brought them back toward her chest, and he pressed down against her wrist one last time before he cupped her hips.

"Nan," he breathed.

She ran the ball of her thumb over the stubble that darkened his cheek, stroked her crooked finger under his chin, then propped herself up on her elbows, shifting his cock inside her, and nipped at his earlobe, both of them panting, gleaming with sweat.

"Go down on me."

He slid out of her and her hips jerked underneath him, and she ran her hands through his hair as he kissed her thoroughly and then traced his mouth down her neck, his tongue against the line of her collarbone, down to her breasts. He suckled and she tightened the leg she still had slung over the small of his back, and then she gasped, arching as he dragged the rough stubble of his chin over her wet nipple, burning the sensitive skin. She glanced over at Jamie's silent cradle, then let her head fall back, loose on her neck as he finished with her other breast and nipped down over her belly, spreading her thighs.

"Ned," she breathed, threading her fingers in his hair as he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, and then she turned her head into the pillow, panting heavily as he dragged the stubble on his chin over the sensitive flesh. He ran the balls of his thumbs down the seam at the top of her inner thighs, gently, even as she thrust her hips up under him, throat bared as he stroked her clit under his stubble again.

"I want to feel you," he whispered, and nuzzled against her quick and fast, his face buried between her thighs, and she arched, panting, and then he slid his fingers inside her again and she was so wet, so so wet, clenching him as he stroked her. He bit her lobe gently as he pulled his hand back and shifted her hips up to his as he nudged his cock between her thighs. They moved slowly, languorously together, her skin still tingling from the burn of his stubble, the sheets kicked away and the springs groaning faintly under her hips as he pressed inside her. She kissed his neck and his thrusts were harder, deeper, quicker, and he braced her hips with his hands, holding her in place so he could fuck her, and she dragged her nails over his back, thrusting her hips up against his just as quickly.

"Mine," he panted, and she closed her eyes, dampening her cries to keep from waking their son, jerking up against her husband and against the press of him, and she dug her nails into his ass, holding him to her as they came, the shift fast and deep as bone. She shook under him, feeling him pulse between her thighs.

He sighed deeply in satisfaction and she wrapped her legs around him, holding him inside her. "Don't leave me," she whispered into his neck, still rocking gently under him.

"I'll never leave you."

She didn't bother contradicting him, just slid her arms around his shoulders and held him to her until he gently pushed her back and slid out of her. She watched him, watched the expressions that crossed his face as he rolled onto his side, as her fingertips trailed over his skin. He gazed at her and she held it for a moment, then found her shirt and tugged it back on, rolling out of bed. Jamie had kicked most of his covers off and his pacifier was hanging half out of his mouth, but otherwise seemed entirely unperturbed.

She rested her hand on the bar of his cradle, and behind her the bed made a soft noise as Ned shifted, and then he was standing behind her, his arms slid around her waist.

"Look at him," Ned breathed.

She smiled at the gentle awe in his voice. "Yeah," she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder and with the brief stroke of his palm over her side, he was gone. Nancy looked down at Jamie and fought the sudden strong urge to run her finger over his cheek, to pick him up and rub his back, to wake him so he would open his beautiful eyes and smile at her.

When she turned around Ned was gone, and she could feel the salt tightening in the skin at the corners of her eyes, so to stop herself from thinking about it she followed him downstairs. She had to laugh when she saw him standing at the kitchen sink, completely naked, and she could still see the crescent-moon indentations of her nails in his otherwise breathtaking ass.

He turned around. "Water?"

"I'll get it, thanks," she replied, still smiling as she opened the cupboard.

The entire world was quiet. Even Mollie was snuffling softly in her sleep, head on her crossed paws. Ned was about to sit down on the couch next to her when Nancy shook her head and pulled the afghan off the back of the couch, for him to sit on.

"So tell me."

She looked at him silently for a moment, letting her gaze drift over him, thinking of a time when seeing him like this, unselfconsciously naked and relaxed with her, would have made her stammering-nervous and giggly. She ran her palm over his hip and sighed, staring at a scar that traced a paler line over his upper thigh.

"Were you afraid for me all the time?" she mumbled, then let her gaze rise to meet his own.

His gaze fell to her mouth. "Some times more than others," he admitted, and took a long sip of water. "And I don't know if it's ever going to go away."

She nodded. "Since you told me you were going to do this, I... keep... I don't know how you... how do you not go crazy? How did you not go crazy?"

"What did you dream about, baby?" He caressed her cheek.

She shook her head a few times. "What else would I dream about."

He slipped his arms around her and shifted her onto his lap, her shirt twisted up above her naked hips, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed her cheek to the crown of his head.

"I got through it because I decided that if being a detective was what made you happy, then it didn't matter that it gave me ulcers and cold-sweat nightmares."

She trailed her fingers over his chest, tracing a circle around his nipple, watching it rise to a point. "But I can't do this without you," she murmured, keeping her eyes wide open so the tears wouldn't rise. "I can't raise him without you and I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

And he didn't deny it, didn't try to give her any false reassurance. He nuzzled against her neck, and he traced one finger up the joined seam of her legs, and she squirmed when he finally met resistance.

"You can't distract me," she whispered.

"You sure?" he replied, brushing his thumb over her nipple until it was erect against the fabric of her shirt.

"Ned," she said warningly, shrugging away from him.

He sighed. "It gets worse," he admitted. "Every single time. I see women beaten to death and I see you if I hadn't gotten there in time, if you hadn't managed to get out in time. I want to wrap you up and never let you go."

"But... I don't, anymore."

He cupped her breast under his hand and she didn't try to squirm away when he smiled and kissed her behind her ear. "You do and you always will," he corrected her mildly, but firmly. "You're a lightning rod, Nan."

She closed her eyes. "And I'm never afraid for me but when it comes to you..."

"Me too," he said, and then he was pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it well out of easy reach. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her breast. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you worry about me, and I'm sorry I made you cry."

She pushed herself off his lap and knelt over him, her knees on either side of his hips, and cupped his face in her hands. "Just always be careful. Promise me."

He slowly ran his palms up her inner thighs, caressing her hips, wrapping around her to urge her down to him, and she kissed him slowly, her eyes closed, as she found his cock and stroked him a few times, angling him toward her. "Promise."

He made a low noise deep in his throat as she slid her knees apart. "I will, baby. I will. It's all right," he murmured, trailing off as the tip of his cock slid inside her.

Without Jamie's presence stifling her, she let herself gasp, moan, whimper loudly into his ear as he stroked her breasts, as he nipped hard at her neck. She bit his shoulder, her fingers threading through his hair, her hips pressing his into the couch. He smacked her ass and she bit his earlobe in retaliation, squirming her hips deliberately against him, and he bucked up under her, driving his cock in deep and hard. Her second orgasms were almost always slow, so he dug his thumb savagely between her thighs, watching her throw her head back when he found her clit. She moaned, mouth open, jerking in time with his hard caress, and he dug the fingers of his other hand hard into her ass, forcing her closer to him.

"Ned..."

"Can I fuck you on the kitchen table," he gasped out, and when he stopped stroking her clit she ground her hips down to his in immediate retaliation, panting, flushed.

"Just don't pull out," she ordered him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He slipped his arms around her waist, sealing her tight against him, and when he stood she wrapped her legs around him and thrust her hips wickedly and he groaned, staggering.

Then he smacked her ass again. "Better stop," he said.

"Or what," she teased him, lips curved up, as she thrust her hips against his cock again.

"I'm gonna make you scream," he promised, kicking the chairs apart to make a space for him to stand at the table, and she bit his neck hard enough to make him gasp before she slowly leaned back, legs still wrapped around his waist.

"If we wake Jamie then I'm going to flay you alive."

"Baby, it'll all be you," he promised, holding her hips in place as he pulled back, slowly, clearly enjoying the impatience and desire on her face. "Besides, can't you punish me with the sex swing?"

"Not without a babysitter," she said, tightening the grip of her legs, urging him closer. "And I've been itching to try out that little... toy you brought home last week."

"Again?" Before she could answer he thrust forward hard, deep as he could, pinning her under his weight and she shivered, tensing under him before fucking him back just as hard. Her breasts trembled with their every thrust and she dug her heels in, groping for his hand.

"Do it."

"Please," she begged, arching under him. "Please."

As much as it drove him mad to watch her stroke her own clit, the shiver that radiated through her hips when he did it never failed to amaze him. He timed the stroke of his thumb with his thrusts and by the fifth one she had gone boneless under him, writhing under his touch. He thrust again and she propped herself up on her elbows, moaning as her hips jerked in quick thrusts, her inner flesh tight and hot around his cock.

"I think... you said something... about making me scream," she panted, and grinned at him, her hair plastered to her cheeks with sweat. She rocked her hips against his, and when he deliberately ran his thumbnail hard over her clit, her nails scratched against the kitchen table.

"You're made of ice," he accused her, then dragged her hips forward until she was sandwiched between his unyielding hips and the lip of the table. She arched, her eyes sewing shut as he thrust ruthlessly into her, and she gasped every time the rhythm his thumb traced over her clit changed. She smacked his ass hard and he chuckled, feeling her wet skin clench him deep inside her. The table was already dragging hard over the floor with his every thrust, and when it finally hit something unyielding she suddenly loosed her legs and opened them wide, planting her heels against the table top, bearing down to meet his every thrust.

"Oh, oh..." She whimpered when he pulled out of her, eyes flashing fire up at him.

"You want me?" he asked, tracing the slick head of his cock slowly down her sensitive flesh, already flushed. He teased her clit with it and she shivered.

"Now," she demanded, thrusting her hips at him, and then her legs were wrapped around him again. She braced her hands at the lip of the table and shoved forward and he had to hold her hips to keep her from locking them together.

"Now?"

She cried out in frustration, knowing that was what he was waiting for, the desperation in her voice, that acknowledgement that he was the only thing that could bring her to climax. "Fuck me, fuck me," she panted, reaching between them to angle his cock, her other arm trembling as it supported her weight.

He gripped her ass hard and thrust into her smoothly, and she bucked against him hard, matching his every movement, until they were both shaking, senseless with desire. He did finally coax a scream from her, then another, until she was breathless, her nails scoring his back, her inner thighs sore with the relentless slam of his thrusts, and still he did not stop. She went boneless and slumped to the table, and still she arched to meet his every thrust, her neck bared, the marks of his bites red on her pale skin.

"Fuck," she groaned with his last thrust, raking her hair back, instinctually tightening against him as he slowly pulled out of her. She fought to get her breath back as Ned braced his hands on the table and leaned over her, his head bowed, his chest gleaming as he did the same.

When her pulse stopped pounding quite so hard in her ears, the sound of Jamie howling bloody murder from his cradle reached her. She glared up at her husband, her legs still open, his hips between her knees. She smacked him just hard enough to get his attention, and Ned jerked back, more surprised than angry.

"What did I tell you," she said, wincing as she peeled herself gingerly off their table. "He wasn't doing that before."

"And who climbed on top of who?" His eyes were glowing when she pushed him back, then hopped off the table, wincing at her sore inner thighs.

"If it takes more than thirty minutes for me to get him back to sleep—"

"Might want to be careful about your threats," Ned said cheerfully, scooping her shirt up as he followed her to the stairs.

"The flaying thing is still on the table," she warned him. "Anyway. More than thirty minutes and you'll be the one screaming."

"Because of the flaying, or is this going to be for a more pleasant reason?" When they reached the landing he slid his arm around her waist and squeezed her for a second.

"Get your rest, big boy," she said, patting his hip.

Ned sighed dramatically. "I've been working for twelve hours straight and you are going to break me, woman. If you can even move in thirty minutes, which I doubt," he said, raising his voice as they walked into the bedroom to see Jamie angrily thrashing at his bedclothes, "then wake me up and let me watch you with the new toy."

"Spoilsport," she said, taking her shirt back from him and sliding it on before she lifted Jamie out of his crib.


	2. Chapter 2

Nancy rubbed her hand over her eyes as the alarm went off and swept her hand over the other side of the bed, unsurprised but still disappointed when she found it empty.

Jamie's cradle was back in the nursery again. Ned had been staggering around blind in the dark to bring him to her for nursing, and it had just been easier to have him in their bedroom until he slept through the night. She slipped into her robe, rolling her neck to get the kinks out, and shuffled to the nursery.

Ned. She could dimly remember the mattress dipping under his weight, the rough brush of his jaw over her forehead as he kissed the crown of her head, and the comforting bulk of him in the bed next to her as she looped her arm over him and buried her face between his shoulder blades. He was working terribly long hours on a series of related gang cases, and her father had been called in by the state's attorney's office to help, so she was finding a lot of free time on her hands. Bess was spending a lot of time with Terry, and George was spending a lot of time with Kevin, and the free time was just weight now.

Jamie was up and waiting for her, and when she walked in his toothless mouth split into a grin, and she melted, just like she did every time she saw him smile. "Hey sweetie," she said, shivering when she lifted him into her arms and he buried his face against her neck.

Hannah arrived three minutes earlier than usual and while Nancy was still lingering at the door, wrapping her scarf around her neck and making sure every button on her coat was fastened, she saw Ned's coat hanging on the rack next to hers, and at the tug of a sudden impulse she buried her face against the collar, inhaling the memory of soap and aftershave and his skin. She hadn't known it was possible to be married to someone and still miss them this much.

"Do you have lunch?" Hannah called from the kitchen, as Nancy ran her hand down the sueded sleeve.

"I'll be fine," she called back. "See you at six."

He had not left a voicemail for her at work. So his day was already going badly, Nancy thought to herself, searching her desk for a pen. She had only called him at work once this week, and he had only been able to talk for a few minutes, unable to even consider her offer to meet him for lunch. Even with that, he had left her voicemails, telling her that he loved her, that he would see her later.

She sighed and started going through her in-box.

When she left for lunch she realized that the first words she had spoken since leaving the house were to the cab driver. For a second she reconsidered her destination, but she was so tired, and if she was lucky...

But she wasn't. The receptionist waved her through but even from the other side of the bullpen, she could see that Ned and Bill's desks were unoccupied. She walked over to his anyway, touching the framed family photograph with the tips of her fingers.

"He's not here," Singleton said apologetically, from over her shoulder, and Nancy turned to him with a faint smile.

"I was just hoping I'd catch him for lunch."

Another cab took her to the state's attorney's office, and when she glanced at her watch, she sighed. Her entire day was shot to hell anyway. Maybe if she left work early and prepared something elaborate for dinner, on the chance he was able to make it home to find it warm, at least that would keep her from just wandering through rooms, distracted, chilled under her skin.

"Nancy!" The smile on her father's face was genuine, when he finally came down to the lobby, and Nancy gave him a smile in return. "What a surprise. So you came to treat me to some lunch?" he asked with a wink.

"Maybe if you're willing to choke down a miniature cheeseburger and some fries," she teased him back. "It's a week until payday, and you would not believe how expensive babies are."

Only once they were seated in a small, warmly bustling cafe with tea and hot rolls in front of them did Nancy turn to her father with a serious expression. "I know you can't really talk about it that much, but is Ned going to actually be home anytime soon?"

Carson's brow furrowed and he sighed as he buttered a roll. "I can't say."

Nancy angrily stirred another spoonful of sugar into her cup. "What about when I might see my husband again?"

"Hasn't he been home at night?"

She shot him a carefully controlled stare. "I suppose I should be thankful that he doesn't come home to catch his five hours of sleep when I'm at work," she replied. "Did Mom actually like it when you'd work eighteen or twenty hours on a case?"

"Not at all," Carson said, the ghost of a bittersweet smile on his face, gone when he lowered his teacup. "Especially not when you were small."

"Exactly. It feels like Hannah and I are raising Jamie alone. And you of all people..."

Carson raised a hand, cutting off her tirade. "He's on the other side of this, and he wanted to do this," her father said quietly, but firmly, holding her gaze. "We're all working very hard. But I'm not his boss and you know I'm not responsible for this, and if he wasn't damn good at what he does, I'd be all for him taking a job in the private sector, mowing the grass on the weekends and playing t-ball with my grandson. And maybe he still should do that, but I'd hate to lose him on this." Carson smiled. "And my God am I glad you didn't go to the academy with him, because as good as he is, you were better."

_Were._ Nancy looked down at her tea. She did help Ned when she could, but it wasn't the same. She had followed her father into law, to chase criminals from the other side of the table, and she had safety and insurance and comfort at a job that only rarely surprised her, while her husband saw the kinds of things every day that had only existed for her in nightmares.

"Then tell him I'm proud of him," she said, and when the waitress came she let the conversation drift to easier things, as the tea settled cold in her belly.

She called Ned when she was on the way home, and he answered on the last ring before voicemail, as she stared out at the sea of brake lights on the highway in front of her. She asked about dinner and he was genuinely sorry, worn out and distracted, when he told her that he would try his damndest to make it home but he didn't expect to see her before ten at the earliest, and she smiled and told him it was all right.

And she wasn't seething; all the fight had gone out of her when she had hugged her father farewell after lunch. She hung up her phone and felt bone-tired, weary, and closed her eyes as another chorus of horns rang out, wishing with all her heart that it would end soon.

When her phone rang her heart leapt, then sank again when she saw that it was her own home. "Hi," she answered, rubbing her brow.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just stuck in a monster traffic jam," she told Hannah. "Is Jamie doing all right?"

"He's doing great. Did you want me to whip up some dinner for you, since we're waiting?"

"Um..." She closed her eyes and imagined one of Hannah's all-day slow-cooked pork roasts, with creamed spinach and corn fresh off the cob and generous slices of chocolate cake, or sugar-laden apple pies with newly churned ice cream, beef Wellington and tuna nicoise. "There are a few steaks in the freezer. If you could just defrost them, I'll cook them when I get home. Thanks."

"Four, right? I know Ned's appetite."

"Four," Nancy agreed. She could always make sandwiches with it later.

Once Hannah was gone Nancy left the steaks on the counter, still slowly warming, and fed Jamie his dinner, then gave him a bath in his shallow tub, in her own tub. He splashed in the water and laughed when it sprayed her shirt, and Nancy cupped the tiny curve of his skull in the palm of her hand, as a familiar savage protectiveness surged in her chest. Jamie giggled and Nancy laughed, gently tickling under his chin.

"When Daddy's done, we'll get him to take us home for a while," she told Jamie, his wide-eyed gaze following hers. "Back to his parents' house. They have a rope swing and in a few years you'll be big enough to get in it, and a big backyard. I'll get him to turn his cell phone off and leave his gun here and we'll have fun, just the three of us. What do you think?"

Jamie squeezed his hippo-sponge, and squealed when it slipped out of his hand.

Once he was cleaned up and in a fresh onesie, and enthusiastically chewing on a fire truck, Nancy looked longingly at the tub, but didn't trust Jamie to keep himself occupied long enough for her to have an actual satisfyingly decadent bubble bath. Besides, half the fun of taking a bubble bath was the prospect of Ned walking in and joining her without even bothering to ask. So she combed her hair back into a ponytail, put on some moderately sexy lingerie under her long sleeping shirt, and went back downstairs.

"Ugh," she sighed. The steaks were already defrosted, and the thought of dinner made her feel vaguely nauseated, so she made herself a spinach and tomato salad while they smoked on the grill, and ate it while flipping through the evening news programs. Jamie burrowed against her side, laughing as he crawled over a floppy teddy bear, and she scooped him up, holding him face-down over her.

"Sweetie, sweetie," she crooned up at him, and she could see that he was tired but he laughed at her. "Sweetie, you have to go to bed soon, and Mommy's going to have a glass of wine. You like that, right? No wine for you yet. Not yet."

She cradled him close to her and as soon as his head was on her shoulder, his breath began to even out.

Even though she told herself she wasn't going to, she stayed awake as long as she possibly could, her ears pricking with every sound. She sipped her wine slowly and turned the baby monitor up as loud as it would go, and when she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open and it was past eleven o'clock, she dragged herself to bed, the leftover steak still warm in its foil wrapper in the oven.

She had been asleep for half an hour when the phone rang, and she sat bolt-upright, gasping for breath, groping for the phone. "Ned?"

She heard one breath, another, on the other end of the line. "Nancy, it's—it's Bill."

Her stomach turned to ice. "What is it, Bill?"

"We're at Mercy," he replied, a hitch in his voice. "Ned was shot."

\--

Thirty minutes later Jamie was unhappy but safely with Bess, and Nancy was blowing through the emergency department, pure adrenaline in her veins. She scanned the room for suits or uniforms, and within five minutes, when she was just short of standing still in the middle of the floor and screaming his name until someone showed her where he was, she saw them.

She stood perfectly still for a fraction of a second, and then she was racing toward the curtain, dodging the nurses and carts, and when Bill turned around his face was flushed, his arm bandaged.

"Nan, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head at him, barely registering that he had said anything at all. "Can I see him?"

"He's in surgery," Bill explained gently.

"Surgery," Nancy repeated, and her hands were shaking when they touched her face. "How long has he been in there? What the hell happened?"

Bill touched her elbow. "How about we go sit down?"

On the other side of the curtain were only more stern-faced men with styrofoam cups of coffee in their hands, badges pinned to their belts, and no Ned; no empty bed, no puddle or trail of blood, no IV stand. No proof of him. She blinked at it for a moment, and then Bill touched her arm again, gently piloting her toward a cluster of vacant chairs.

"He's going to be all right."

Nancy took one look at Bill's face and knew that if he wasn't lying, he was at least terribly unsure. She tensed in the chair, ready to go find a nurse and sit through the long complicated explanation of where the bullet was, whether it had lodged, how many fragments were inside him, what soft flesh it had torn apart.

Bill drained the rest of his coffee and sat with the cup empty and useless in his hands. "Did you want some coffee?"

Nancy shrugged. "Tell me what happened," she said.

Bill's short nails left impressions in the soft cup, and he began rolling it between his palms, not looking at her face. "We went to pick up a witness," he said. "Last stop before we went home and we were already running late. We pull up to the address and we weren't expecting much trouble, or any trouble. No one was supposed to know."

"But someone did," Nancy whispered.

Bill nodded at the floor. "Soon as we get to the door this big, big guy slams it open with a gun in his hand. The screen door was still shut and he hit Ned first, here," Bill said, patting his left side, low, "and when he finished bringing the gun up, he hit me here," and Bill only nodded at the bloodied gauze circling his upper right arm. "Then he was running and Ned was on the ground, and I asked him if he was all right, and he told me to go after the guy."

"And did you?" Nancy knew her voice was colorless, but it didn't matter.

Bill nodded, swallowing. She knew that the cops who investigated cops were going to have their fingers all in this, asking him to repeat this story a thousand times, and he was already anticipating it, dreading it. Not because of anything wrong he did, but because his partner fell.

"Ned..." Bill didn't finish. "I just wanted to kill the guy," he muttered.

"The witness?" Nancy asked, as though it mattered.

Bill snickered. "Dead before we ever got there," he said.

"And you weren't vested."

Bill shook his head and Nancy buried her face in her hands. "We didn't know," Bill said, quietly. "God. We just didn't know."

And the two of them sat, waiting, and Nancy clenched the arms of her chair and told herself that checking every operating room until she found his wouldn't help him, wouldn't help him at all.

\--

"Mrs. Nickerson?"

Nancy had been staring at the silver legs of an IV stand. She shook herself and looked up at the nurse, a sturdy, capable brunette with a paper mask still tied around her neck. She bit back the immediate reply that she was not Mrs. Nickerson, that Mrs. Nickerson was dead, and nodded.

"We've been working on your husband's injuries. He was brought in a few hours ago suffering from a gunshot wound and resultant hemopneumothorax. Are you familiar with that?"

Nancy shrugged, her eyes bright, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would just start wailing.

"The bullet nicked a rib and went into his lung, where it caused blood to fill the space between his lung and the chest wall, and caused a pulmonary— perforated his lung, which collapsed. Bill here," she nodded at him, "called in emergency personnel very quickly, although by the time he came in here, he was starting to suffer from shock. We've replaced the fluids he lost, given him a tube thoracostomy, and removed the bullet fragments. He's in a lot of pain, but for now he's stable."

Nancy opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. "For now?" she managed, and her voice was shaking a little.

The nurse hesitated. "He's unconscious, and he's on a ventilator."

"I want to see him," Nancy said, standing up.

The nurse glanced between Bill and Nancy. "Let me check and see how he's set up, and I'll come back and get you. Just wait here," she said, patting the air with her hands, and disappeared behind another series of curtains.

Ned.

Carson and Hannah had given Jamie one of the most obnoxious toys Nancy had ever seen, for his first Christmas. Jamie was supposed to fit in a sort of harness contraption in the middle and play with all the small toys around him, fake picture books and bells and squishy animal shapes. He had grown particularly fond of one button, which burst out into a cheerful nonsense song every time he pressed it. From the moment Bill had told Nancy that her husband had been shot, that song had been playing over and over in her head, drowning out the constant litany of fears and worries that would otherwise have overwhelmed her.

He was going to be all right. She knew that. He was stable. He was on a ventilator—

_oh God, oh God, he's on a machine to make him breathe_

but it wasn't to keep him alive, just more comfortable. He was going to be all right.

Two more inches and he would have been shot through the heart. Another bullet and he would have been dead.

Nancy opened her mouth and nothing came out.

"Mrs. Nickerson?"

Nancy jerked her head up, eyes shining, to see the nurse beckoning to her. She looked down at her feet but they wouldn't move until Bill gently took her arm and piloted her down the hall.

The first bed in the room was occupied, by someone other than Ned; an old woman, white hair, pink gown, hands folded above the worn blanket, her head tilted to the side, an oxygen tube running under her nose.

She heard the respirator before she even saw him. The nurse was checking his vitals and Nancy went over to his side, unable to look away. He was pale under the oxygen mask, his mouth open, eyelashes dark on his cheeks. A tiny frown was between his brows. He and Jamie both wore that tiny frown when they were dreaming of something unpleasant.

She forced herself to swallow, took a breath and then slid her hand under his, against the rough cotton blanket. His skin was clammy against hers, and cool.

"We'll be able to take him off this soon," the nurse said, watching the respiration monitor. "That will help."

"How long is he going to be here?" Out of the corner of her eye Nancy could see Bill lingering in the doorway, but she couldn't bring herself to call out to him.

"The doctor can tell you better than I can."

Nancy looked back down at him, kept her hand in his while she stroked his temple.

The nurse stood watching her for a minute, opened her mouth, then hesitated. "If you want, you can stay here with him," she said, clutching the clipboard to her chest. "He should probably be awake in another twenty minutes or so. I'll send the doctor as soon as he can come."

Nancy nodded, dimly wondering that the nurse had ever thought there was a chance she would willingly leave him, and sat down in the hard plastic chair beside his bed. Bill turned so the nurse could slide past him, then came cautiously into the room, his eyes on Ned.

"You want some more coffee?" he asked.

Nancy shook her head. "If you can find a vending machine, I'd love some Diet Coke," she said. She shrugged her purse off her shoulder, her hand still under Ned's, and started digging for her wallet.

"Don't worry about it," Bill said, gesturing for her to stop, and slowly she brought her red-rimmed gaze up to smile at him, very briefly.

Then they were alone, but for the old woman in the other bed, and Nancy looked down at his hand, at the rings on her finger. Ned's ring was missing; seeing his finger bare made her sad, although she knew they had probably taken it off before he went into surgery.

"Hey," she said softly, and only then did she realize that her face was drenched in tears. "You have to wake up soon, baby. You have to wake up and tell me you're all right. Please."

When Bill came back with her sweating Diet Coke, Nancy had her head down, her face pressed against his forearm, and she was sobbing like her heart was breaking. Even when she heard Bill in the room with her, she couldn't stop. She had been dreaming about it since the day he graduated from the academy. She had been dreaming about seeing him broken, and not being able to see his eyes, not being able to hear him tell her he was all right, scared her more than anything.

Bill put the drink down next to her and Nancy squeezed her eyes shut, panting for breath. "Thanks," she said, her voice rough with tears, and she wiped at her wet cheeks.

"It's all right," he said, gently.

"It's not all right," she whispered. "My God, it's not all right." She picked up her drink but couldn't bring herself to open it.

For a long time they sat in silence, watching the respirator rise and fall, watching Ned still and cool in his bed. A monitor began chiming softly and Nancy stared at it, then back at him, her heart fluttering.

A man in a lab coat walked in, a chart in his hands. "You must be the wife?" he greeted her, with his hand out. "I'm Dr. Androsa."

"How is he?"

The doctor nodded a greeting to Bill, then glanced over Ned's vitals. "He's all right," he said. "He made it here in time. Things would've been much worse if he hadn't. He's going to be in a lot of pain, though."

"How long will he need to stay here?" Nancy asked, her eyes bright.

"Oh, probably around a week, if he continues to improve. The rib is going to give him the worst of it, but he should make a full recovery."

Nancy clasped Ned's hand in hers and nodded, gazing down at him again.

"I'm going to take him off the ventilator now. He might be agitated when he wakes up, so just make sure he knows you're here, all right? That should calm him down."

She watched his face, watched him change as he woke up. His skin grew pale, he started to sweat, and he moaned in his sleep, jerking at the blankets. His hand twitched in hers and he panted, and then his eyes opened, glazed with pain and fear, and Nancy had started crying again.

"Hey," she whispered, through her tears, holding his gaze, squeezing his hand. "It's all right. You're going to be all right."

He shot a wild glance around the room, then reached for her, moaning in pain when his ribs moved. The doctor gently shoved him back down, and Nancy ran her palm down his cheek, as he gasped for breath, his brow furrowed.

"Shh, it's all right. Just be still."

He nodded, his eyes still wide, his other hand dropping back to the bed. He closed his eyes and she leaned down and kissed him softly, just the brush of her lips over his, and he sighed.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she whispered against his mouth, and he squeezed her hand.

\--

She took a day off work, and sat with him, but he slept fitfully and she couldn't bring herself to talk to him. Nurses and his doctor were in and out of his room all day, asking him to rate the level of pain he was in, adjusting his medication, and he was distant, his smiles strained. Every breath he took seemed to hurt him.

"Is Jamie okay?" he asked, during one of his lucid times.

"He's fine," Nancy said, stroking his cheek. "He's with Hannah. She said she'd come by tomorrow and bring you some of her homemade soup. She thinks it'll clear you right up." Nancy wiped a tear from her cheek. She hadn't bothered putting on makeup.

"Nan," Ned sighed, and squeezed her hand. "It's all right."

She stroked his arm, lightly, her caress bringing gooseflesh to his skin. "I'll stay here as long as you need me to," she told him.

He moved restlessly under the sheet, wincing. "You know I'd keep you here," he said, stroking his thumb against her hand. "Come by and see me on your lunch break."

Bill came by on his own lunch break, but Ned was taking a nap, so Bill and Nancy went down to the cafeteria. She picked at her fruit cup while Bill drained another cup of coffee.

"You're back at work so soon?"

Bill met her eyes and shook his head. "Oh, man, no. No. I'm due for a psych eval at the end of the week, I've been filling out a whole hell of a lot of paperwork on what happened, and I'm going to be on strictly desk duty for a while. That's what happens. With Ned it's going to be worse."

Nancy took a spoonful of yogurt. "He's in so much pain," she whispered. "And..." She shook her head.

Bill looked at his plate. "Are you all right?"

She shook her head. "I'm not going to be all right until he's home," she murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mild S&amp;M.

"I'm sorry. I just can't."

Nancy smiled and opened the door to their ground floor guest room. "It's all right. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I think they're clean sheets..."

She tossed the comforter back and fluffed the pillows as Ned walked in, gingerly, concentrating with every step. He sat down on the bed, hissing in pain, and she knelt to take his shoes off.

"Thank you."

She glanced up but Ned was looking down, her gentle smile lost on him. "Ned, it's okay."

When she stood up, he settled slowly onto the pillows. "Do you think you can find my pain meds?"

"Yeah," she said, and she moved to touch him, but by then his eyes were shut, his face closed.

He had been getting better. She had only come by on her lunch breaks, like he'd wanted. Hannah had come by to see him; in fact, she was pretty sure that everyone they knew had made time to stop by the hospital. He'd received so many bouquets that he'd started directing the nurses to give them to other patients. His captain had stopped by. Her father had stopped by, and Nancy was almost glad she hadn't been there to see it. She didn't blame her father for what had happened to her husband, but she still found herself angry at him.

And, she could admit, when she was alone and digging through her purse, a little angry at Ned. Once the doctor had managed to find the right dosage for his pain medication, Ned hadn't seemed to need her anymore. He answered her in few words, and she was afraid to touch anything other than his hand, afraid to shift his rib and cause him more pain. She had wondered if not seeing Jamie was making him depressed, but he hadn't asked to see his son, only asked if he was all right. She could all too easily imagine Jamie innocently crawling over his father's chest, and the thought made her cringe. He'd be home in a few hours.

At least tonight she'd be able to sleep beside her husband.

She came back in with his pill bottle and a glass of water, and when he struggled to push himself up, she moved the pillows behind him, and he tensed for a moment. She watched him take his pill in silence.

"I'm going to make myself some dinner, are you hungry?"

He started to shrug, then gasped in pain. "Not really," he replied. "I'll be all right in here."

She glanced over at the bare top of the chest of drawers. "Do you want me to bring a TV in here so at least you'll have something to do?"

"That'd be great."

She ate her dinner alone, silently, at the kitchen table, her legs tucked up under her as she turned the pages of the newspaper without actually reading it. The laugh track grated on Ned's television as she took Mollie into the backyard and tossed the ball for her, Mollie bounding across the yard to retrieve it, as the sunset faded from blue to black. Hannah was supposed to come in any minute; Nancy heard her car pull up in the driveway and let herself through the side gate, coming around the house to intercept her.

"So Ned's home and settled in?"

Nancy nodded, taking her squirming son from Hannah as she groped in the back for his diaper bag. Hannah also, of course, had a cooler stacked full of tupperware, and she headed for the porch as Jamie cooed happily to his mother.

"Tell me you didn't get him high on sugar."

Hannah laughed, unpacking the cooler and clearing space in the refrigerator. "He's been happy today. I'm sure Ned wants to see him."

Nancy looked down into her son's face, so like Ned's, and brought him up so she could gently rub the tip of her nose against his. He giggled and she had to smile. "Want to go see Daddy?"

Ned was just blinking awake when Nancy walked in with Jamie, who immediately started reaching for his father. Ned shot Nancy a look, but he didn't object when Nancy put Jamie on the bed next to him. Jamie immediately crawled up to his father's head, and patted him on the cheek.

"Hey buddy," Ned said, smiling. "Hey. I missed you too."

She left them alone and walked back to the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her belly. Hannah was clucking over the scarce contents of her freezer. "I swear, I don't think you'd eat if I didn't bring food over here. How's Ned supposed to get better if there's nothing in the house to eat? I'll come get you tomorrow and we can do some grocery shopping."

"Yeah," Nancy said, leaning against the counter. "Thanks for watching Jamie so much for me this week. You really helped out a lot."

"Oh, Nan, you had enough going on," Hannah said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"No," Nancy said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. "I think I'm just going to go to bed, if I can get Jamie to go down without a fight. Give me a call and let me know about grocery shopping, though. I think we'll have to take Jamie, because Ned can't even manage the stairs, and that pretty much leaves him out of the question."

Nancy watched Hannah leave, then went back to the bedroom to see Ned dangling Jamie over his head, wincing when he moved. "Hey, cowboy," she said, coming over to scoop Jamie up, and Ned's look of gratitude was tempered with something else. "I think it's about time for you to get a bath and into your jammies. You going to be okay?" she directed the last at Ned, glancing at him as Jamie squirmed in her arms.

"I'll be fine. Thanks."

Jamie didn't go down without a fight. She put him in his crib and he wailed. She rocked him and sang to him and when she tried to put him in his crib, he opened his eyes and wailed. In exasperation she took him in her arms and sat down in the rocking chair, rubbing his back, his warm face against her neck, slowly shushing him as she wondered whether Ned was asleep yet, if she would have to wait to talk to him. When she was finally able to put Jamie down, she hooked up the baby monitor and took it with her to their bedroom to put on her own pajamas. She settled on something short and cotton, then picked up the monitor again and went back downstairs.

The doors were all locked and Mollie was inside, her food and water filled. Nancy stopped, holding her breath as she lingered just outside the bedroom doorway, then set her shoulders and walked in.

He was asleep, and in his sleep, even propped up on the pillows with the blue tint of the television lighting his face, at least he looked peaceful. She touched him then, gently, running her fingers down his jaw, and he slowly blinked up at her.

"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay? Need anything else?"

He began to shake his head, then glanced at her nightgown. Her breasts were free under it, and her nipples were already standing under the fabric. It had been so long since they'd had sex, weeks since, that she was practically wet just being in his presence, just from the mere scent of him. But his gaze wasn't lingering or deliberate, and it went all too quickly back to her face. He shook his head.

"Okay. I'm going to go upstairs...?"

She put just the faintest intonation at the end, and took a deep breath, and his gaze flicked down to her breasts again, just as she'd known it would.

"You probably want to sleep upstairs with Jamie," he said, and he put just the faintest intonation on the end of it, and she was too tired, too bone-weary to keep dancing around it.

"We have the baby monitor," she said, holding it up. She glanced over at the other side of the bed. "And I'd like to sleep with you, if you want me to, I just don't want to accidentally hurt you in the middle of the night."

The barest hint of a smile crossed his mouth, at that. "Sleep in here," he said, quietly.

She did smile, at that, and went to the closet to find a spare set of pillows. "I can put one between us," she explained. "Just in case. You say I like to snuggle up against you."

"Yeah. I think that'd be good. The pillow." He nodded, watching her.

She had considered asking his doctor, when they were checking out, how long it would be before they could resume limited sexual activity, how long before they could resume normal sexual activity, and she had already decided she'd tack on a week before they would resume their more exotic sessions. But he had already gone over Ned's medications and therapies before she had arrived, and Ned had been distracted and tired during the entire ride home. His first night back, she knew, was probably out. Her libido just didn't seem to care about timing, though.

She settled the pillows and Ned turned off the television, groaning softly as he shifted to put the remote on the bedside table. She lay on her side facing him, one arm pillowing her head, and gazed at him in the dark.

"Are you in a lot of pain right now?"

"Every time I move, it hurts," he said. "Like someone hit me in the chest with a block of cement."

She closed her eyes. "Why does it seem like you're mad at me?"

Ned was quiet, after that, for a long time. She heard him open his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. "I hate having you do everything for me. I hate feeling so fucking powerless. I hate that I can't even turn over in bed without screaming."

"But you like it when I tie you up," she pointed out.

He snorted, then gasped his breath back. "That's because I give you... permission. You know what I would do and when you tease me, it just... that just makes it hotter. But this? This isn't something I can turn off, there is no safe word, there's just you looking at me with those sad eyes—"

Nancy sat up in bed. "You think this is because I pity you?"

"Yeah," he shot back, answering the fury in her own voice. "I do."

"I... God, you self-centered prick, I almost lose you, and then you shut me out because you somehow believe I think less of you, for this? You didn't ask to get shot."

"I didn't," he agreed, quietly.

"But that doesn't matter, because I almost lost you anyway," she said, and she was crying again; she had cried herself to sleep almost every night in the past week, and she swiped angrily at her cheeks, choking back her sobs.

"Hey," Ned said softly. "Oh God, Nan. Don't do that, don't cry."

"I will if I fucking want to," she said, and buried her face in her hands, rocking back and forth.

"Please."

"Why weren't you vested?" she said, but it came out closer to a hysterical scream than she had intended. "You promised me, you told me you'd be careful—"

"But there wasn't supposed to be anything to it!" he protested vehemently. "Just a damn witness pickup!"

"On a gang case?" Over the sobs, her voice was scathing.

"At the end of a shitty day when I was supposed to be coming home to you, yeah. On a gang case. From a guy who wasn't even supposed to be there."

He turned away from her and she realized that she had never heard it from his mouth, only Bill's, but Bill was the one riding a desk while Ned was stuck at home.

"Ned..."

"I need to go to sleep," he said. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, more quietly.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered.

\--

She started packing Jamie's diaper bag right after lunch, and Ned watched her, curiously. "You're going somewhere?"

"Hannah and I are going to the grocery store," she replied, toneless. She hadn't wanted to start another fight with him, so she hadn't picked up the threads of their conversation again. She was finding it difficult to act like everything was all right, though.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you left Jamie here?"

Nancy turned to him, an incredulous look on her face. "You can barely move."

"I can move," he shot back, pushing his chair away from the table. He was holding his back ramrod straight, and when he rose to his feet, she could see the tremor of pain that he couldn't quite hide, tightening his jaw.

"Without hurting yourself?" she replied. Jamie was standing in his playpen, his fists wrapped around the sides. "Bending over to pick him up? Off the floor?"

"Nan..."

"Look, it's all right," she said, waving her hand, checking for the wipes. She brushed the fringe of her bangs out of her eyes. "It's fine. I'd rather you rest now than try to prove to me how strong you are and putting yourself right back in the hospital."

Ned slapped the table in frustration. "Fine."

When Hannah pulled up and honked the horn, Nancy headed out with Jamie in her arms, and as soon as she closed the door behind her she felt like she was going to cry again. "You've still got the car seat, right?" she called.

"Of course," Hannah replied.

From the minute they buckled him into the grocery cart, he was squirming to get free. "Is Ned doing better?"

"He's..." Nancy stopped to check a display of paper towels. "He really liked that chicken casserole you brought over last night."

"And how are you doing, then?" Hannah asked.

Nancy glanced at her, saw that she wasn't going to let it drop, and sighed. "He doesn't like me having to do everything for him, and... and I'm so mad that he got shot that I could kill him."

"You're mad at him?"

"No," Nancy said. "Not... not at him. I'm mad because I knew that this could happen, somehow, some day, and I thought I'd accepted it, but seeing him in the hospital was like having my heart ripped out. They kept saying he was all right. And all I saw was that if the bullet had been two inches to the left, Ned would have been dead. And there are going to be psych evaluations and then Ned's going to be cleared to go back to work, and if I say that I can't handle him being a cop anymore... I don't want to make him choose."

"Between you and being a cop? Nan, I don't think that is a choice for him. Not really."

Nancy smiled. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't resent me for it," she said. "Because if he'd put it to me like that, if he'd said I had to choose between being a detective and our relationship... well, basically, he did. A long time ago. And we all know how that ended up."

"But he wouldn't do that to you now."

"He wouldn't do that because I'm not where I was ten years ago," she replied, tossing a handful of macaroni and cheese boxes into the cart. "And we have a son. And it's the kind of question that if I ask it, no matter what his answer is, I lose."

"So what are you going to do?" Hannah nudged the cart in the direction of the meat counter.

"I'll deal with it when it comes," she said, as Jamie stared up at her, that same frown between his brows.

\--

The three of them sat at the dinner table, and while Nancy was setting it she felt a twinge, remembering when Ned had carried her over to it, her legs locked around him. That wouldn't be happening for a while.

She cut up Jamie's food and served Ned's plate, although when he needed more to drink, she only noticed when he cautiously levered himself out of his chair and went to the refrigerator. He sat back down and glanced up at her, and she smiled at him.

"So you didn't want to wait for me."

He shook his head, pouring more soda into his glass. "It's fine," he said, and she could see the tension in him, but she turned back to Jamie.

"So... you think maybe after this you could help me take a shower?"

Nancy had to compose her face before she could turn back to answer. "I guess," she said lightly. "I mean, with all those hard to reach places."

"Yeah," he replied, reaching for another roll.

She had noticed the sharp scent of him, the sweat after his exercise session. If he wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, he had to make sure he stayed as close to peak condition as he could, but the sessions left him drained and exhausted. In the time he had been home, he had only tried to make it upstairs once, stopping halfway with a pained grimace. It had been easier to bring her alarm clock downstairs and sleep with him, than sleep alone, although she had kept Jamie's crib in his nursery.

She had seen him wake up in the mornings with his usual erection, but he had never made any overtures, and she hadn't offered. She imagined that he was taking care of them himself, just as she had while he had been in the hospital and she had been sleeping alone.

Sweat. The sense-memory of it made her shiver. If she was entirely misreading him, well, she had other ways to take care of it.

After dinner he offered to clear the table while she took Jamie upstairs for his bath. Their son had managed to cover his entire face, most of his hair, and his arms up to the elbows in orange-red spaghetti sauce. While she waited for the tub to fill, she went to the bedroom, put on a thin white shirt with no bra, and then went back for Jamie. Real subtle, she chastised herself, but Jamie was quite boisterous in the tub and when she had him dry and in a clean onesie, the damp shirt was chilled and clung to her breasts, her erect nipples clearly visible through the fabric.

"Hey," she greeted her husband, who was watching the sports recaps. His gaze didn't miss the gleam in her eye or the state of her t-shirt, and he pushed himself up.

"One down, one to go."

"Right," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Is it cold in here, Miss Drew?"

"I have noticed a distinct chill in the air," she replied, keeping her face straight only with supreme effort.

"I thought maybe you had."

In the guest bath, which lacked the space and garden tub of theirs, Nancy stripped her shirt off and stepped out of her shorts. "I don't mind doing things for you."

"I don't mind you doing things for me. I mind it when you're doing everything for me."

"Yeah, well." She gently tugged his shirt over his head. "I think you're pretty well on your way. We can work on the stair thing."

"I think I could manage it if I took a few more tylenol."

She nodded, and held his gaze as she swiftly unfastened his pants. "I'm sure you could. Is there anything I need to know before we get in the shower?"

He shivered when her fingers brushed his cock. "That I can't wash your hair," he replied.

"Sometimes a girl has to do some things for herself," she replied, and pushed her panties down.

The doctor had recommended a stool, for help keeping his chest stable in the shower, and even though he complained that it made him feel like he was seventy, he didn't say much more after she washed his hair. She washed her own hair and lathered herself with body wash quickly, facing him so he could watch the entire time, then soaped up the sponge and washed his back with it, in slow strokes, and he closed his eyes. She ran the sponge over his arms, his chest, his legs, and then he stood.

"Anywhere else?" she asked, then glanced up at his eyes.

He was almost smiling when he rested his hands on her breasts. "I think these need a very good washing," he replied, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.

"Do you trust me to do a good job?" she asked, shivering a little.

"I think you'll do an excellent job."

She lathered up the sponge again and squeezed it over her breasts so the soap dripped over them, and Ned watched her rub the sponge in wide circles over her breasts until she was stroking it roughly over her nipples. She stepped under the spray and arched so that the stream was stroking the erect tips, and she closed her eyes, her lips parting.

"Anywhere else?" she asked as she opened her eyes.

He picked up the hand holding the sponge and led it directly to his flushed cock, and she gently stroked the sponge over it, careful at the tip. She squeezed the sponge again until her hand was covered in suds and palmed his balls gently, stroking the top of the taut flesh gently, and stepped forward until the head of his cock was pressed against her belly. She tilted her head up and held his gaze as she stroked him with her soap-slick hands, and his hips were just barely trembling as she moved away and let the spray rinse him off. She ran her hair under the shower head one last time, then flicked the water off with her foot.

"Sit down," she said softly, nodding at the outer corner of the tub.

He obeyed her, and when he was sitting at the corner with his back braced against the wall and his legs open, she knelt between his knees, shivering, asking with her gaze if he wanted her to do this. He didn't object, and she ran her fingers up and down his shaft a few times, rubbed her thumb over the tip, then leaned forward and slowly took him in her mouth.

He shivered and then gasped in what she recognized as pain, but didn't tell her to stop, so she brought her hand up to massage the base of his cock as she gently sucked at him. She moved her mouth in time with the gentle pumping of her fist, slowly, swirling her tongue at the tip before she took half his length in her mouth, and then she felt his hand at the back of her head, tightening in her hair.

He had always wanted to come in her mouth, and she almost never let him, so he always tried to force her. Instead of fighting back, she gently vibrated her tongue against the bottom of his shaft, and with his choked cry and the brutal force of his palm against the back of her head, he came. She pumped her fist against him in time with his orgasm, and he was panting when his hand loosed and dropped from the back of her head.

Immediately she turned and spat forcefully at the drain, again and again, then climbed out of the tub, found the mouthwash, and gargled with it twice before she stopped, panting.

Ned's eyes were closed. "Fuck," he breathed. "I thought you said you never wanted to do that."

She waited until he looked over at her to shrug. "I didn't swallow," she said, then made a face. "Much."

"But after that one time..."

She sat down on the lip of the tub, with him. "I had a feeling you might not be up for... many other ways," she said. "And I knew you'd like it."

"Yeah," he admitted, pulling his knees closer together. "But you..."

She chuckled. "Don't worry about me. That battery-operated friend you got me has worked wonders."

Ned groaned. "Now you're just teasing me. Will you at least bring it downstairs so I can watch?"

"Yes," she groaned, good-naturedly, as she kissed his cheek and stood again.

They dried off and she towel dried her hair, and it was still falling in dark red ripples to her shoulders when she started to cross the threshold into the bedroom, and then Ned grabbed her, swinging her so she was facing the jamb with one leg on either side of it. He pressed against her from behind, his hips tight against hers, and she bent her knees, panting as sandwiched her between his hips and his hand, which was suddenly sliding roughly between her thighs. At the first barest thrust of his hips, which made him pant, which made her moan, her cheek resting against the door frame, she shivered.

His thumb dug against her clit.

She jerked hard against him as though she'd been shocked, and he bit her neck, her shoulder. She sobbed out his name and he growled "Mine, mine," into her skin, fingers thrusting up between her legs, and she was wet for him, had been wet for him for weeks, had been aching for him for weeks. He squeezed her breast hard and deliberately bucked his hips against hers, hissing through the pain, and she reached up to hook her fingers around the upper frame of the door, pulling her knees up. For the few seconds she could manage it, all her weight hanging from the tips of her fingers, she rocked her hips hard against his hand, fucking it against the frame. When she kicked she caught the lamp and it flew to the floor with a crash, and Ned flicked her clit again, arching his body tight against hers, and she panted out a scream as she dropped back to the floor.

Then he let her go and she was on fire, her every nerve was on fire, her orgasm just on the cusp of breaking, and she grabbed him. He groaned against her mouth when she kissed him, roughly, sliding her tongue into his mouth, one hand buried in his hair, her other hand reaching for his, begging for his. "Now," she panted, leading his hand back between them.

He jerked away from her and smacked her ass hard, and she closed her eyes, arching, her nipples brushing against his chest. He leaned down and breathed against her ear, his fingers digging into her skin.

"Go get your toy," he growled, nipping at her lobe, and she shivered. "I'll be waiting."

Nancy was still shivering when she burst into their room, the air stale, and almost went immediately for their drawer when she forced herself to put on a robe and check on Jamie. He was asleep, his thumb half in his mouth, and she smiled to herself, closing the nursery door behind her.

She could see one of the black restraints peeking out from under the mattress, and she sighed. Next time, she promised herself, and jerked open the drawer. Their collection was small but specific, and the toy in question was bright purple and especially hard to miss. The sight of it made her clench in anticipation, and only the thought of Ned's hand shoving it hard between her thighs instead of her own sent her downstairs instead of succumbing to the impulse immediately.

The lamp was back on the table and Ned was lying on the bed, his erection standing again. He scowled when he saw her robe and she slipped out of it immediately, noticing the pillows he had placed beside him. She handed him the rabbit and he pressed the switch, watching it vibrate.

"Fresh batteries?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you make me wait much longer I'm going to fuck the rolling pin while I'm gone," she told him, heading to the kitchen, the air conditioning gently teasing her nipples. She checked to make sure the door was locked before she started digging in the battery drawer. "And we're probably single-handedly keeping Energizer in business."

She came back in to see him holding the vibrating rabbit attachment against the tip of his cock, an inquisitive look on his face. He shrugged, winced, and switched it off, and she quickly switched out the batteries.

"So what are the pillows for?"

"You'll see."

He had her lie on her back next to him, the pillows supporting her, and open her legs, and then he switched the lamp on and looked down at her, holding her gaze as he gently teased her nipples to points again, as he dipped his fingers between her thighs and found her clit with the ease of years of practice.

"Does it hurt you, to stay like that for long?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. Her leg was hooked over his hip and she wondered for a moment if he was going to take her from behind, if the rabbit had just been to tease them both. She arched when he began to curve his fingers in her, and he smiled, watching her pant.

"I'm not going to be like this for long."

He switched the vibrator on and eased himself onto his back, his shoulder against hers, her legs still open wide. "Open yourself for me," he whispered, and she reached down with both hands and spread her lips wide. His hand traced over her, over her abs, and she could still hear the rabbit, loud in the silence, her inner flesh already almost vibrating in time with it. He pressed the head of the silicone cock against her clit and she shuddered, tilting her legs back and her hips up to allow him deeper access. He traced it over her slit a few times, slowly, then butted it against her opening, and she moaned, her hips thrusting up in anticipation.

He turned it off and she could hear herself panting, and then his hand gently pressed the head of the dildo between her thighs, gently, slowly, another inch and she was rocking against it, another inch and she was arched and trembling. With one final quick thrust its entire length was sheathed inside her and she felt the brush of the rabbit against her clit, and then it was vibrating, pulsing, buzzing inside her and she drew in a deep breath and sobbed in pleasure, as Ned's hand shoved it even deeper inside her and it throbbed against her g-spot, relentless. With a flick of his thumb he sent it to the next highest setting and she fucked the dildo against his hand, hard as she could.

Her hands were free so she groped for his cock and found it, found his fist already pumping around it. She licked her palm, her hips still thrusting hard against the rabbit as she palmed him and gently squeezed his cock, timing the pumping of her fist with the rhythm the dildo was pushing inside her.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she sobbed aloud, as the rabbit raked over her clit, and no matter where she squirmed it was still filling her, thick and tight. "Yes, yes, fuck, yes, Ned, I— God," she squealed, her head snapping back, eyes rolling back as he pulled back and impaled her with another long thrust. "I want..."

"What is it, baby," Ned gasped, his own hips rocking against her touch, and when she brushed her thumb over the tip of his cock she found it wet.

She cupped her hand over his, holding the throbbing rabbit inside her, and flipped over so that she was kneeling over his cock and her hips were spread wide, bearing down on the pillow next to his head. Then his hands slid between her thighs again to ram the dildo inside her and she took his cock in her mouth, pumping it firmly with her fist, teeth gently scraping over his shaft.

She came, gasping, with hard full-body shudders, her hips still jerking to bear down against the vibrator, to force the rabbit more firmly against her clit, and still Ned didn't take it out, so when he shuddered under her with his own orgasm she pulled back and he came on her breasts. She wiped her palms over her breasts and squeezed them, flicking her nipples, her hands slick with him, and panted, "Please, please, stop..."

But it wasn't the safe word, and her hips slid slowly apart until she was fucking his hand against the mattress, the vibrator still buzzing inside her, and the rabbit dancing against her clit brought her to another orgasm, another, her thumbs flicking at her nipples. He jerked it once more between her legs and she shivered, moaning, unable to even speak, as he turned it off.

"So... that... was that what you did while I was in the hospital," he panted.

She brought her knees together slowly, wincing at how sore her thighs were, and the rabbit slid out of her wetly, no longer held between her legs by the clench of her orgasm. "Um," she managed, raking her hair back, making a face when she remembered why her fingers were sticky. "No," she said belatedly. "No. Not quite."

\--

She woke up naked, head pillowed against his shoulder, her leg thrown over his thighs, and his erect cock was just brushing above her knee.

"Hey," she said, her voice still rough from all the screaming she had done the night before, and through the baby monitor she could hear Jamie bashing toys against the bars of his crib. She slowly, deliberately drew her leg back toward her, rubbing against the underside of his shaft, careful not to put any weight on him, and he sighed.

"Hmm?"

She brought her face up to his and kissed his earlobe. "I don't know about you, but we have a hell of a lot of sex to make up for."

"Honey, I think between the two of us, I was the one who didn't have easy access to any toys, or even any fucking privacy to jack off. So yeah." He turned his face and his stubble scraped against her cheek as he kissed her jaw. "I think you need to sleep naked for a while."

She reached down and stroked his cock slowly, her grip firm, and he let out a shuddering breath. "You want me to try riding you, or you think it's too soon?"

"God," he moaned, kissing her neck. "Too soon," he said into her skin. "But don't stop what you're doing."

With one more long slow squeeze she did exactly that, and Ned gasped in disappointment, grabbing for her. She smoothed her fingers over the stubble burn he had left on her neck and laughed as she climbed out of bed. "Jamie's up," she said. "And you know how he screams when he doesn't get his breakfast."

"Oh, you wicked woman," he groaned, rolling off the bed, loosely clasping his cock as he stiffly headed to the bathroom. "Please bring a glass of water when you come back," he called through the closed door.

She stripped the sheets off the bed, started the washing machine, and was halfway to the nursery when she glanced down. "God," she muttered, and headed to the master bath for a three-minute shower before she went back for Jamie.

She knew he was too young to understand what was going on when his father slammed his mother against the kitchen countertop, when he bent her over the back of the couch, when her fingers fumbled at his zipper. She'd never been able to have sex in front of him, though. Even when he had been in his crib, a blanket draped between them, had been bad enough.

"So that means missionary's probably out, then."

She glanced up at Ned, as Jamie slowly lifted another handful of cereal, half of it skittering on the floor before it made it to his mouth. Ned put his mug of coffee down and took a thoughtful bite of toast.

"Not with us both in bed."

"Standing?" she raised an eyebrow at him, taking another bite of her scrambled eggs.

He considered, then shook his head. "Not yet. Not where I have to move around that much, and I think if you're on top..." He shrugged. "We'll forget ourselves."

"That's why we have a safe word," she reminded him, taking another slice of toast. "So you're saying we can do oral and... mechanical."

Jamie blurted out something meaningless and Nancy grinned at him, then shook his juice cup. She pushed back her chair and went to the fridge to refill it.

"I guess so," he answered, when she sat back down.

Nancy finished off her eggs and took a long sip of coffee. Jamie took a handful of cereal and deliberately dropped it on the floor, and she sighed, infinitely grateful she hadn't poured milk into it.

Then she dropped her voice. "I want to feel... you, inside me."

She usually said it when they were in bed, when he had teased her to screaming frustration, or when they were at dinner with other people, unable to politely excuse themselves, and she wanted to drive him crazy. Now it was just bald fact. What they had done the night before had been incredibly satisfying. That didn't replace how it felt when they were face to face and he was buried deep as he could go inside her, when her orgasm was feeding his own.

He glanced out the window and she crossed her legs, taking another sip of coffee. They had tried a whole hell of a lot of positions during their marriage, a few more during their engagement, but most of them involved some level of flexibility, and their favorites tended to involve her having some freedom of movement when she slammed against him. That was out.

Which was a damn shame.

He raised his eyebrows. "We could try the recliner," he said.

She glanced over at it. Usually they saved that position for when they were both tired and wanted it to take a while. "It's got enough padding," she mused. "We could use another pillow."

"So...?"

"So once I clean Jamie up I'm going to let him run around outside so he gets tired for his nap quicker," she said, grinning at her son, who dropped another handful of cereal on the floor. "Oh, and after I clean the entire kitchen. Thanks a lot, bucko."

Jamie just grinned back at her.

"Oh, and..." Ned's voice was far too casual, as he drained the rest of his coffee. "You know that thing, with the chains? I think that would definitely... kick things up a notch."

"Doesn't it always," she purred, sweeping her plate up.

On the back porch Ned sat and watched as Mollie and Jamie tumbled around the yard. Jamie shrieked with laughter as Mollie licked his face, and Nancy tossed the tennis ball to the back fence for the dog to chase. She uncovered the turtle-shaped sandbox and sat beside it, scooping sand into a pile as Jamie watched, and he pounced as soon as she looked away, giggling madly the entire time.

Mollie brought Ned her chew rope and he tugged at it a few times, then threw it for her to fetch, wincing. Jamie handed Nancy his shovel and she took it with great ceremony, handing it back immediately when he started clutching for it again.

"You want to play airplane?" she asked, and then swung him up into the air, laughing up at him. She swooped and drifted, and by the time she put him down she was exhausted, but he was running around in dizzy frantic circles, still laughing. Mollie tackled him and Jamie hit the ground, rolling around with her.

"God. I'm gonna need a nap after this."

"Really?"

She had to laugh at the concerned look on his face, and then she ducked toward him, threading her fingers through his hair and kissing him slowly. He touched her face and returned it hard.

"You know how long it's been since we made out?" she breathed against his mouth, her eyes closed.

"Too long," he murmured, and kissed her again. She listened for Jamie and when she still heard his breathless exhortations to Mollie, she sighed and trailed her mouth down Ned's neck, then stood up, wincing.

"Not a good angle."

"There are no good angles," he laughed, and slid his hand into hers. 

When they went back inside, Jamie toddled along beside his father, bubbling over with enthusiasm, and Ned listened to everything he said very seriously. Jamie finally started yawning and Nancy began to reach for him, but Ned shook his head.

"No. It's okay."

They went upstairs, Ned moving very carefully, concentrating on every step. Nancy started thinking about dinner, and as she went through the cabinets, a shadow swept over the sun, muting the light.

They didn't end up having sex until after dinner, after the evening news, after Jamie was tucked into his crib and the rain had come, making Mollie pace worriedly at the windows. She left Ned in the living room with an extra pillow and went upstairs, making sure on the way that all the blinds and curtains were drawn, the doors locked. When she returned she was completely naked save the clamps twisted tight and chained between her erect, sensitive nipples, and the other clamp she had swinging from her hand.

"Hey, baby," she said, looking down, and then she met his gaze, and she never got tired of the hungry look in his eyes when they did something like this. "Can you help me with the clit one? I don't ever have enough hands."

She lay down on the bed and opened her legs, but Ned didn't respond immediately. Instead he grasped the chain between her nipples and tugged gently, and she gasped, a shudder running through her. "God, you look so fucking hot right now," he murmured. "Open yourself up and I'll do it."

She opened her legs so wide that her knees were on the mattress and held her lips open for him, and he traced his finger down until he found her clit, teasing it from beneath its hood. He slid the ring around the flushed nub and with every twist of his fingers it tightened and she trembled.

"Okay, there, stop," she moaned, and he gave it one more half-turn and she arched up off the bed, crying out, panting at the exquisite pain of it.

"Are you going to wake Jamie up again?" he asked her, and then he took the intersection of the three chains in his fist and tugged up gently, and she screamed, her world going red for a second. When she was aware again, her hips were thrusting up in time with the flick of his wrist, and she was finally able to remember the safe word. She panted it out and he dropped the chains immediately, and she almost sobbed in relief.

"You okay?"

"Please," she panted, incoherent. "Please just a little bit loose or—"

She had pushed herself to sitting and the weight of the chain as it slid down nudged her clit again, and her knees buckled. The chain pooled on the floor between her legs and she sighed, even though with every breath her nipples were throbbing. "Fuck," she whimpered.

"Is it numb?"

"God, no," she said. "Oh, oh fuck, if I move I'm going to come."

He looked down at her, on her knees, and she saw that gleam in his eye. "How about if you hand me the chains and suck me off," he suggested.

She tried to make herself pick up the chains, but she couldn't. Her clit was throbbing and she wanted it to be him, wanted it to be her husband, but all she would have to do was jerk the chains herself and she'd have a mindfuck of an orgasm.

"I want you," she moaned, and then he was shoving his pants down and she could see his cock, already thick and hard for her. "I want you inside me."

"I'll be inside you."

She closed her mouth and her eyes and swallowed hard, trying to remember anything other than the insistent pulse of her orgasm, high and thrumming between her legs, waiting. "I said the word," she forced out.

Ned sighed. "You want me to kiss it and make it better?" he replied.

"Yes," she said. "And then I want you to fuck me."

She managed to loose the ring slightly without letting herself come, and then she crawled up on the bed, the newly clean sheets, until her head was on the pillow and her thighs were spread wide. Ned was taking his clothes off, so she let the chain slide down to rub against her lips, tilting her head back.

"God. It works so much better when we're doing doggie style. Did you bring the collar?"

"I'm not giving myself whiplash," she replied, squirming her hips, and the simultaneous gentle tugs made her whimper. "God. Are you going to eat me out or what?"

He traced the backs of his fingers over the smooth skin between her legs, not yet quite touching her inner lips. "Give me the other pillow and the chains."

She moved back to give him as much space at the foot of the bed as she could, and he knotted the chains to tighten them as he propped himself up on the pillow. He licked the swollen tip of her clit, then tugged the chain gently, and she arched, almost screaming. He traced her inner lips with the tip of his tongue, then pushed it inside her, and she squirmed underneath him until he gave the chain a short sharp jerk and she whimpered. He took the chain in his fist and twisted, tugging her nipples down and her clit up, and she screamed as loudly as she could, burying her face in the pillow, and her hips jerked gently under him as he scraped his stubble over the tip of her clit, in time with the jerks of the chain.

"Fuck me," she gasped out, begging him, as she began to tremble, her clit throbbing with every caress of his stubble, every tug that linked her clit and nipples. She arched and he pulled it tighter and she burbled nonsense, writhing under him, her hips jerking up to find his mouth. When he gently nipped her clit with his teeth she came, her neck bared, hips thrusting shallowly against him, and he kept jerking the chain, rhythmically, and she folded her legs under her and shoved her hips up, arching her torso up off the bed, only succeeding in pulling the chains tighter. She felt his fingers plunge home between her thighs and she screamed again, fucking herself against the press of him, her orgasm clenching him tight inside her.

Then she was collapsed to the mattress, panting, the chain loose on the bed but the clamps still tight against her throbbing nipples and oversensitized clit. Ned slowly pushed himself up and gazed down at her for a long moment, his cock throbbing hard at the sight of her. "Come get me when you're ready," he said, and went back into the living room.

Several minutes and three tries later, she followed him, slowly, every step jerking her clit. She was weak-kneed when she reached him, supporting herself against the arm of the chair. "It's going to be slow," she warned him, looking down at his cock, wet again at the sight.

"Not that slow," he smiled, wrapping his hand around the intersection of the chains again, and she could do nothing but obey as he pulled her to stand in front of him. As badly as she wanted him to fuck her, if he had asked her to suck him off again, she knew she would, creaming herself just at the flick of his wrist. The anticipation was burning her alive. Just like he'd wanted it to.

He tugged the chains gently toward him and she climbed up onto the recliner, legs already spread wide as she straddled him, and pushed herself forward. He tugged the chain slowly, lightly as she took his cock in her hand and stroked it firmly, her hips jerking with every answering throb of her clit.

"I love you," she whispered, and she slid her arms around him, pulling his hips another few inches toward her, so that when she angled his cock and slowly sheathed him between her legs, her knees hit the back as she took the last inch of him inside her.

"I love you," he whispered, flicking his wrist to jerk the chain, and she hissed through her teeth as she braced her hands at the back of the chair and thrust slowly for the first time. The back of the chair angled a little further every time she bucked her hips, and that look of momentary splitting pain she was all too familiar with tightened his face, and he would jerk the chain a little harder, starting the whole cycle over again.

"God, yes," she panted, her thrusts short and rough, and she licked her lips, and then they were kissing, his mouth brutal under hers, tasting of her sex. She pulled back a few inches and thrust again and he bit her, jerking the chain savagely, and the echo of her orgasm throbbed around his cock.

"Yes," he gasped, and she was pressed to him so tight that he could feel the chain rubbing against his belly as it tugged against her clit, could feel the involuntary spasm of her hips as the clamps bit into her flesh. He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her hard, his other hand sliding between them. He wrapped a length of chain around his thumb a few times and then slid his fingers between her lips, stroking the sensitive tip of her clit as he tugged the nipple chains with his thumbs, and she twitched against him, a deep liquid moan escaping her as she began to come. With the third savage thrust of her hips he followed, pulsing inside her, his eyes rolling back, and for as long as he kept gently tugging the chain, she didn't stop clenching against him.

He untangled his fingers when they were both spent and she was collapsed against him, her face against his neck, their skin damp with sweat where it touched. He slid his arms around her and she sighed, her arms loose at his neck.

"You kept screaming," he breathed against her ear.

She chuckled. "That's what happens when we use the clamps, if you remember," she said dryly, wriggling her hips. "I scream. And one of these days our neighbors are going to call the cops again."

"I would gag you, but it's so hot when you do it."

She nipped at his neck, hard. "Glad I could help," she murmured.

He closed his eyes. "Sorry. It's true."

They were quiet for a long moment, and then he felt her trace her finger down his chest, her thumb coming up to brush his nipple. He looked down at her own breasts and they both felt his cock throb weakly inside her again. "You're going to have to go for a psych eval," she said, not looking at his face.

"So they can say I'm okay to work again."

She let her hair fall forward in her face as she nodded, and he ignored the pain that flared in his chest as he ducked forward and kissed her. She was crying, but she returned it, matching his intensity.

"If you cry when we have sex, it's bad for my self-esteem."

She gave him a watery smile, as he'd known she would, but then she was pulling away from him, until he slid limply out of her. She took the nipple clamps off and bent her knees to loose the one on her clit, her thighs slick and gleaming in the low light. Then she stood in front of him naked, the chain bunched useless in her fist.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, and he watched the swing of her hips as she walked away from him.

He waited five minutes and followed her, and it took him another two to manage the stairs. She was sitting at the foot of their bed, still naked, bent in half, her nipples gleaming from the cream she put on after to soothe the swelling. When she looked up at him, clearly startled that he had followed her, her face was wet.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said, and she shook her head, raking her hair out of her face. Her mouth was trembling. He came to her and she opened her knees so he could stand between them, and put her face against his belly, her breath warm on his skin.

"I'll be all right," she told him, her voice shaking. "Just give me a minute."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Does this mean you're not going to tell me because it'll make me mad?"

She didn't say anything, and that was all the answer he needed. He trailed his fingers down the back of her neck and she shivered, and he went over to his side of the bed.

"Then let's go to sleep," he said, and the high was bleeding off, leaving him numb and depressed.

She left him alone in the bed and disappeared into the bathroom long enough to wash her face and brush her teeth, then went downstairs and came back with the alarm clock and the few things he had left in the other room. She pulled out a threadbare t-shirt to sleep in, but he made a disapproving noise, so she shrugged and left it in the drawer, sliding between the sheets naked.

They were in the pitch black when she curled up against him, and her fingers drifted down his chest until she was just lightly touching the place where the bullet had slammed into him.

"This is why," she told him, drawing a circle around it with her fingertips. "And I can't do a fucking thing about it."

He closed his eyes and slid his arm around her, and he had no answer.


	4. Chapter 4

"Da!"

Ned walked by the table in his shirt and tie, jacket still off, and Jamie raised his hands beseechingly, and Ned smiled and lifted him out of his high chair. Nancy watched his face carefully, but the twinge was gone. The slight tightening of his jaw wasn't, but it barely mattered. She looked down at her oatmeal and coffee, her appetite vanished.

"You look nice today."

Ned glanced over at her in surprise, then down at his outfit. "You too," he told her.

She smiled and started clearing the breakfast dishes. "You going over this morning?"

"Yeah," he replied, jogging Jamie on his knee as he sat down for his coffee, and Jamie made a low humming sound, arms flying. "And Hannah's ready for him. She's missed you, buddy," he told Jamie, then kissed him on the forehead before flipping open the paper.

Nancy rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, washed her hands, and stared out the window, twisting her engagement ring around and around on her finger. Tomorrow. She didn't want it to end. He'd been home, taking care of Jamie while she was at work, and she'd been able to call and talk to him whenever she'd had a spare second, and he had been there when she went to sleep, when she woke up in the morning.

And he was going stir-crazy, she knew that. Their division of labor had never included him being a house-husband, partially because his idea of dusting was nowhere near as comprehensive as hers. But he was home.

"Don't let them talk you into anything," she warned, as she slipped into her jacket, teeth freshly brushed, every hair in place. "I want you home for dinner."

He groaned. "Oh, c'mon, Nan."

"They can save the celebration for when you've been back a week," she said sternly, and came over to kiss them both, Ned's kiss lasting much longer and virtually guaranteeing lipstick reapplication in the car. "Please," she said softly, running her fingers down his cheek.

"It's just a few hours," he said, his eyes innocent. "I promise."

She kissed him again and Jamie started squirming between them, so she reluctantly pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her father's work in Chicago was long finished, months ago, although sometimes he still took trips in to consult with lawyers he knew from his life before, to tie up a few loose ends. He had been mentioning, casually, positions that were available in the state's attorney's office, in the investigations bureau, doing trial support, and while he had been talking she had realized that her entire life she had been listening to this language, this cadence and vocabulary, from him, now from her husband too. She could converse in it backwards and forwards. Her college education had been four years of review after eighteen years of studying.

The money was good where she was, but they didn't need it, and she knew that.

She wanted to take him with her. She wanted him where he would never arrest another suspect, never walk into gunfire, never be forced to choose between his safety and that of someone else. She wanted to chain him to her and never let him out of her sight.

But he was whole again, and happy again; happy at the prospect of being with Bill again, of digging through surveillance and wiretaps and background checks and the detritus of a hundred hours of investigation to find the proof that would lock someone away. He loved the chaos of it and being needed by someone, and she was sure that when he got back, everyone in the office would be glad to see him.

And even while the prospect of it scared her to death, she was proud of him, proud that the man she had married would walk back into that life without a flinch. He was good at what he did and she knew one day he would probably get a promotion, even without her father's influence. He didn't need her family name to do it. She knew that her father could get her a position with the state's attorney's office in two days, if she asked.

Now even her husband's name was enough to gain someone's notice.

_I am unhappy here,_ she thought, looking down from her impressive view of the city, the sleek desk, the work she could have done from the age of thirteen with little effort.

_And I would be near him._

She bit her lip and looked down. Her decision to pursue criminal justice hadn't been that much of a surprise to her father, but her announcement that she had decided to go to Emerson had given him pause. He had made her promise that she would put off marriage, put off starting a family with Ned until after they were both graduated, but at the age of eighteen, nothing had been further from her mind. That conversation, though, had colored their entire relationship. She had been more prone to share mugs of hot chocolate with Ned than tequila shots, more likely to leave him at his door with a lingering kiss than follow him inside.

And then his parents' death had changed everything, so swiftly, and she had been putting off everything she wanted to do. She had never found the time to get her private investigator's license. She had decided to put a nest egg away and even after her marriage to Ned, it had seemed so much simpler, to let herself stay in the easy job, to keep the banker's hours while Ned was able to do what she had wanted to do.

Even though she didn't let herself think about it that much, working with him on the serial killer case had been the most thrill she'd had, professionally... ever. And she could do that, for eight hours a day, from the other side of the table.

_And I would be near him._

Nancy shook her head and took out her cell phone. When Bess answered, Nancy said, "So we're definitely still meeting for lunch, right?"

"You bet," Bess replied. "In fact, I'll be free in half an hour, and I am definitely going to have a margarita."

"Grab us a table when you get there," Nancy said. "And order me one to start."

\--

"Did you talk to him last night?"

Nancy licked salt off the rim of her margarita glass, then took a long sip. "No," she said, disgustedly. "He's been practically going out of his skin with boredom and last night he was shining his shoes. _Shining_ his damn _shoes_. He was that excited to be going back in for just a few hours today." She sighed.

Bess tossed her head of blonde curls. "And how long before you lose your temper and tell him off anyway?"

"For what? For doing his job?" She took another, longer sip of her drink. "Cause that conversation will go great."

"Well, what about the vest thing?"

Bess sympathized with Nancy's worry over Ned, given Terry's own sometimes dangerous career. Between the two of them they had been coming up with ever more grandiose schemes to keep them safe, Bess's latest involving a secluded Pacific island and Nancy's involving an elaborately staged fake alien abduction. When they weren't drinking, their solutions were a bit more mundane.

"I'll talk to him about that tonight," Nancy decided, picking up a tortilla chip and considering it for a moment before she took a bite. Bess sipped the dregs of her own drink, then started on her water.

"You know how Dad was working with the state's attorney's office?" Nancy said slowly, pushing her straw around in her drink, and glanced up to see Bess frozen stock still, watching her warily. "What?"

"You have that tone in your voice," Bess said, warningly.

"What tone?"

"The tone that usually ends with 'And wear something black, just in case,'" Bess said, pointing a tortilla chip at Nancy to emphasize her words. "The tone that nearly got me arrested more times than I can count."

"See, Ned just usually rolls his eyes and says 'Oh, hell,'" Nancy said, grinning. "Much shorter."

"Yeah, well, it's not like _he_ can't get himself out of it," Bess said, narrowing her eyes at Nancy. "Spit it out, Drew."

"I was thinking about maybe seeing if I could get a job there."

Bess's mouth dropped open. "You've spent the past six months telling me how afraid you are that something worse is going to happen to Ned next time, and now you're actually thinking about moving from the private sector into something that will definitely stick a target on your back? What the fuck, Nan? That's a margarita, not a martini," she said, taking the glass and stirring it suspiciously.

"Number one," Nancy said defensively, ticking off her fingers, "it won't put a target on my back. You're thinking about Dad. He was an attorney, in the courtroom, and I'm talking about working as trial support, which is a huge department. And practically anonymous. Two, I really don't think it's any more dangerous than walking to your car on a Saturday night—"

"You 'don't think'?" Bess repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't. And three," Nancy continued, and lowered her voice, "I am so bored at my job that I actually," she sighed, "almost wish Ned would pick up another high-profile case, just so I could help him out."

"Like Nash? From everything you told me, you were both almost fucking killed."

Nancy didn't reply, just started to down her drink.

Bess shook her head, crossing her arms. "So, what, exactly? You want to be the one who goes out and gets yourself shot and you want to keep Ned at home watching Jamie and waiting for you? Remember your son? The one who will be an orphan if both of you decide to play Superman and make believe that bullets will just bounce off your chest?"

Nancy put her drink down, hard. "He's not supposed to be the one," she said, forcefully, tears stinging in her eyes. "I did this. I'm supposed to be the one out there risking my life and risking myself to help other people, because I can't, I can't lose him. I would die. And he's stronger than me. He..."

"You think just because he got through his parents' death, he wouldn't be as hurt as you if something went wrong?" Bess's voice was quiet, but her eyes were sharp. "You know, Terry... Terry could go out in the desert and rig a bomb to explode, knowing the entire time that if he was caught, he'd be killed for it, immediately. He could lead missions and he was damn good at it, too, and if he..." She swallowed hard. "If he went back, and if he made it home to me, I know it would be with enough awards and commendations that he'd look like a damn war hero. But I know him, and I've seen the way Ned looks at you, and Nancy, if you think he's stronger than you, that's only because you don't see him without you. You could tell George and me to walk into an abandoned warehouse at three o'clock in the morning in the worst part of town and we'd follow you, and if Ned wanted to keep up with you, he had to be as fearless as you, we all had to try and be as fearless as you. If you think he could get through losing you and be even half the man he is on the other side of it, you don't know him at all."

Nancy smiled, a tear sliding down her cheek, and she swiped at it. "What does Terry have to do with that?"

"I'm proud of him," Bess said, twisting her straw paper. "He's a good man. They're both good men. Terry does what he does, to keep people safe, and I love him for that. Ned does what he does, and you do what you did, for that same reason. And I'm sorry, maybe if he'd never met you, if they'd never met us, Ned wouldn't be a police officer right now, but you gave him that taste, you let him see how it was to be needed, to be strong for the people who couldn't be strong for themselves."

"And I can't tell him to stop," Nancy whispered.

"And we can't tell them to stop," Bess agreed.

"Well," Nancy sighed. "Then I might as well be happy. Right?"

"Right," Bess said, raising her hand to signal the waitress. "Two more margaritas, as quick as humanly possible."

\--

She took the long way home, leaving later to avoid some of the traffic. She had the application form in her briefcase, tucked in with the other papers, but she hadn't yet filled it out, just sat considering it all afternoon. She had felt the tequila pooled in her belly, warm and rising, and only forty-five minutes before she left work had she actually started feeling like she was actually really all right to drive.

Their church was on the outskirts of town, one Ned had suggested they attend because a few of his friends from work also attended with their wives. There was a special brand of sympathy reserved for cops' wives. She hated it. She hated the feeling that because their husbands' lives were spent in such close contact with those whose lives were nasty, brutish, and short, they brought the same fate on themselves, that to hold back the dark was to become one of its first victims. That she was to be left to home and hearth, to mourn the loss of him when it happened and pick up the pieces as swiftly as she could after. That way of thinking had whispered to her in her sleep, and she hadn't been able to ignore it, because she had known it was all too likely true.

_He was lucky this time. Chances are he won't be lucky next time._

The evening service had already started. The spaces around her car filled, then further out, bringing the men in their collared shirts taking their long strides, jingling their keys in their pockets, the affluent women with their coordinated strollers and carefully arranged hair. She could name drop, could fit in with the best of them, with her heavy-bond business card and teardrop diamonds, but her husband, even when devastatingly handsome in his uniform, was still a police officer.

Her father had managed to turn an almost universally reviled career choice into an unmatched position of power and prestige, his reputation spotless and his character beyond reproach. Ned, one day, she knew, would be able to do that too. He had already started. But that didn't mean it would be good enough to save him.

Nancy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bowing her head against the steering wheel. _If you are going to take him,_she thought, _there's nothing I can do about it. I know that. You spared him this time, and for that I'm grateful, more grateful than I've been for almost anything else, but seeing him this way... _

She reached up and wiped her cheek. _I know one day I'm going to lose him, somehow, but for now, let me be near him, let this happen, please. Please. Let me be a part of his life, this way, and let me do now what I've wanted to do my entire life._

_And give me this one thing, please. Grant me this, if it's time._

_But if I can have none of this, if I can't have this happiness, if this isn't what you want for me, then let him die of old age, let him live long enough to see our grandchildren, leave his mind clear and let me keep him, because without him, none of this matters. My life doesn't matter, my life is meaningless without him. And I will have Jamie, but even as much as I love him, even as much as I would kill for him, I would never get over losing Ned._

She came to herself gasping, sobbing, the moon high over the trees, the soft sound of a hymn drifting through the air. She put her hands over her face for a long moment and waited until the tears subsided, until she could breathe without pain, then carefully wiped her face and put her lipstick back on.

_Please,_ she thought, her heart straining with the vehemence of it, just one last time.

Then she turned the ignition and drove away, without looking back.

\--

Ned came in carrying Jamie when she was almost finished with dinner preparations, and Jamie was half-singing, half growling. Ned lifted his son high above his head and Jamie squealed and squirmed with laughter, until he saw his mother. When Ned put him down, Jamie hurtled toward her, catching her at the knees.

"Hey buddy," Nancy said, laughing, and tousled his hair. Ned gave her a kiss and under the wintergreen she could feel the sting of whiskey, and from how closely he was watching her, she knew he wasn't sure he'd get away with it. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at him, as Jamie started trying to climb up her leg.

"Jamie, be careful," she said, glancing one more time at the simmering pot before she slid both hands under his arms and swung him up onto her hip. "The oven's hot. I don't want you getting burned. Did you have a good day with Hannah?"

Jamie's head bobbed violently. "We tore up grass!"

"Weeding," Ned explained, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Hannah said he was bouncing off the walls."

"I'm sure you did a great job," Nancy said, kissing his forehead. "You want to go play with Mollie for a little while before dinner? Just be careful, and don't tug on her tail."

Nancy set the table and Ned stood on the back porch watching as Jamie and Mollie hurtled around the backyard, Mollie barking happily the whole while. He'd come in dirty, but after a day of weeding he was probably dirty anyway, probably smelled of wild onions and dandelion sap.

"I think Mollie's going to get tired before he does," Ned called back to her ruefully, through the screen door.

"Probably," Nancy sighed, ladling sauce over the meat. "Can you take him to wash his hands before we sit down? I'll give him a bath later."

After dinner she set Ned to load the dishwasher while she took Jamie upstairs, and as Jamie stomped each one she glanced back to see Ned rolling up his sleeves. Yard work had been one of the few tasks he had more than happy to tackle for her, and the rich deep hue of his skin against the white made her breath catch, just slightly. Jamie suffered his hair-washing only long enough for two rinsings, the rest of the tub clogged with alien invaders and anthropomorphic animals, mouths frozen in technicolor snarls. They waged war while she scrubbed between his toes and behind his ears, until his baby-soft skin was translucently clean. She rubbed his wet hair until he managed to squirm out of her grip and run screaming with joy down the hall, buck naked, to his room.

"Jamie," she groaned, half exasperated, and attacked him with the towel again. "Pick out your PJs."

"Too bright to sleep!" he protested.

"Doesn't matter how bright it is," she told him sternly. "And if you get in bed I'll go see if Dad will read you a story, all right?"

She knew that Jamie snuck a dinosaur in bed with him, because his growls weren't all that secretive, nor was the suspiciously dinosaur-shaped lump that stalked under the covers within range of his hand. She kissed his forehead and left him to Ned, and when she walked out she could hear Ned reading off the titles of Jamie's books and Jamie laughingly protesting at each one. Nancy looked down at her still-damp shirt and sighed.

By the time Ned slipped into their bedroom, Nancy had taken a quick shower and was propped up on her side of the bed, long legs bare under a short red nightgown. Ned took in the view approvingly, kicking his shoes off as he tossed his jacket over a chair. He reached for his tie, tugging the knot down, but Nancy shook her head, eyes gleaming.

"How about you come over here and let me help you."

Ned sat down beside her obligingly and Nancy started with his tie, sitting up so she could gaze into his face. The house was still, with Jamie tucked up in bed, Mollie in for the night, everything quiet.

"I remember," Ned said, looking down at the cuffs of his white shirt as he unrolled them, "when Dad used to come home after a long day and read to me. He had books he'd saved from when he was little about baseball and football, boys who built planes and did fantastic things, he'd read a chapter every night."

"Do you want us to go find them this weekend?"

"What?" He glanced up, his eyes vulnerable, and shook his head. "The books? No. I just... he doesn't like sports anyway, not yet. And he's always so surprised when I can talk about dinosaurs."

"But he'll probably like sports someday," she pointed out, touching his jaw.

Ned looked away. "If I read them right now," he said, but he trailed off, and she could hear the rest of it. Ned would hear his father's voice again, the stories that he'd probably imagined his father would read to Jamie, and she had seen that peculiar look on her father's face before, too. He would remember what he had lost, what Ned saw when his father's face stared back at him from the mirror, when Carson saw his wife again in the way Nancy pursed her lips or tossed her hair. He didn't talk about it and it would never leave him, that strange fierce loyalty to the dead.

She shook her head a little. "So how did today go?"

Ned shrugged. "Really well," he said, almost succeeding at sounding casual, but she could tell he was excited. "Bill has a whole stack of files waiting for us to go over. And... I know what you said, but a few of the other guys wanted to hit a bar when we got off, and I just had two."

Nancy nodded, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "It's all right."

He nodded, but he kept gazing at her, expecting her to say something else. "How was your day?"

"It was..." She stopped, momentarily unable to go on, and when Ned stood to pull his shirt from his waist, she deftly unbuckled his belt and started on his fly. "You know, actually? It was boring. And I've been thinking about that."

"About how boring your job is?"

He was being careful with his clothes. She remembered a time when her wearing a nightgown meant that he'd get out of his suit as fast as he could, and she'd be left to gather it from a crumpled pile on the floor the next morning, fit for nothing but a trip to the dry cleaner's.

"I've been thinking about maybe seeing if I can get a job at the state's attorney's office."

Originally she had planned to tentatively run the idea by him when he was half-drowsed and spent after sex, when his attention was guaranteed to be distant. She said it quickly while he was still in his boxers and then glanced up at him, apprehensive, and Ned looked down at her.

"Why not?"

She blinked. "Because it might be longer hours, more dangerous, less money..."

Ned chuckled. "Are you trying to dissuade me, or talk yourself out of it?"

He turned the overhead light off and slipped into bed beside her, still in his boxers, and Nancy joined him, sliding down until her eyes were on level with his. "We don't need the money," she said.

"True," he replied.

"And Hannah never seems to mind staying with Jamie. But it might be dangerous."

"Well, what exactly were you thinking about doing?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then kissed her cheek, softly.

"Trial support."

He made a soft noise, moving closer to her, pulling the strap of her gown down her arm. "Not usually that dangerous."

"And we might get a chance to work together."

He laughed, and the sound vibrated against her throat, from the press of his mouth. "That's true. Is that why?"

"A little," she admitted, squirming a little under him. "I did like working with you."

He paused, then, and she could feel that small shiver pass between them. She still found herself hypersensitive when she saw a car that was the same make as the one Nash had driven. Whenever she talked to Nikki, during those brief times their visits home intersected, she could feel it on their skin like a forgotten bruise, that single terrible intersection of their lives.

"Nan," he breathed.

"I just want you to do something for me," she whispered, and kissed his jaw, his neck. "Please."

"What."

"They have those vests now," she told him, and ran her palm over his chest, over the pale scar. "The ones you can just wear with your clothes, so it doesn't look like you're on a SWAT team the entire time. I want you to wear one."

He hooked his thumbs under the hem of her gown and slid it up. "All the time?"

"When you're on duty."

He nodded thoughtfully. "And what will you give me, for doing this?"

The expression in his eyes was playfully speculative, and in answer she ran the backs of her fingers over the front of his boxers. "Whatever you want," she murmured, her voice low, her own gaze innocently clear.

"How many... whatever I wants?" he said, cupping her hip under his hand, tracing his fingers over her skin.

"How about once a week until you're retired," she countered.

"Hmm," he murmured. Her abs trembled a little under the light sweep of his fingers. "Anything?"

"Except the one thing I told you we were never going to do again."

"Well, to be fair, that was your idea," he teased her.

"It was not!" she said, righteously indignant. "You got me drunk. And I never even said yes, I said, 'I guess so,' and by then—"

"Oh, shut up," he replied, with good humor, and then his mouth was on hers, her fingers threading through his hair as she returned the kiss. "Tonight?"

She nipped gently at his lower lip. "I don't see a vest," she returned, wrapping a leg around his waist.

"Consider it a good faith investment."

She groaned, then inched his boxers down. "It's going to be all blow jobs, isn't it."

"If you hadn't shown me you were so damn good at it..."

She sighed. "I try to do one nice thing for you," she murmured. "That'll teach me."

He pushed himself up on his knees and as soon as she could, she pushed his boxers down. He groaned when she slowly stroked his erect cock, and he let himself fall to the side, his hand coming to rest on her breasts, her nipples hard against the silk.

"What do you want tonight?" he murmured, kissing her collarbone, gently tweaking her nipple through her gown. "Do you want me to eat you out?"

She shivered, her hips tilting up gently at the thought. "It's not my birthday," she teased him, sitting up so she could pull her gown over her head. He trailed his hand down her back, then pulled her toward him, and she sighed as he gently tugged one of her nipples.

"I know it's been hard for you."

She touched his cock again, taking his meaning literally, and he chuckled and shook his head, but didn't object when she slowly stroked him again.

"Me going back to work."

"Oh," she said, and ducked her head in, kissing his neck. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't want to say anything."

"You didn't have to," he said, and groaned at an especially skillful flick of her wrist. "But I wish you would talk to me."

She stopped then, bringing her hand up to rest on his hip, and in return he brushed the back of his fingers over her breasts, then took a nipple into his mouth, suckling slowly. She let herself roll so he was on his back and she was curved over him, the sheet kicked away and forgotten, his other arm sliding around her waist.

"I didn't want you to go back," she admitted, her eyes closed in pleasure. "I don't want you to go back. But you will, it makes you happy, and I can't ask you to give that up. And maybe I won't be so afraid all the time if I know you're vested."

He made a soft sound against her breast. "I don't think it works that way," he whispered.

"But what other choice do I have," she said, the fear trembling in her voice but not the anger. She couldn't be angry at him for doing what she would have done in his place.

He flicked the tip of her nipple with his tongue. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I would fully endorse a plan that involved you fucking me until you were too tired to think."

She sighed as he pulled her fully on top of him, sliding his hands between her thighs to pull them apart so she was straddling him.

"Ned," she murmured.

"I know," he said softly, and started to trail his fingers between them, to find her clit, to stroke her until she was ready for him. She had to force herself to stop him, to trap his hand in hers, and then he was gazing up at her.

"Oh, you do want it," he said, and flipped her onto her back, and she couldn't help it. She bent her knees, stroking his hair, his shoulders, as he began to trail his mouth down her neck, her breasts, her belly, and she remembered that she had to tell him, but by then his mouth had found her clit, and she was arched hard under him.

"Ned," she gasped.

"I know," he whispered again, and then he was suckling against it and she was panting, whimpering when he was easily able to slide three fingers between her legs. He nipped her clit gently and her hips were moving against his ministrations without stopping to ask for her consent, and she had to stop him, had to tell him—

She planted her heels and pushed herself back, away from the distraction of his mouth and his caress, before he could drag his stubble over her clit and finish her for good, and he looked up at her, still perched on one elbow, confused. She was flushed and panting; obviously she had been more than fine with what he'd been doing.

"I want us to try for another baby," she said, raking her hair back.

"You didn't have to stop me," he told her, pushing himself up. "I was going to get there."

"Yeah..." She kept her gaze on his face as he started to pull her down again. "What I mean is, if you don't, we're going to have to dig out a condom."

"You're off the pill?"

"Only since this morning."

He pushed her legs apart and groaned when he felt again how wet she was. "God, Nan. Come here..."

She brought her legs up, knees facing her chest, and when he slowly lowered himself to her, the more he pressed down, the more he tilted the angle of her hips. "Give me a girl this time," she told him, crossing her ankles behind his head.

"Right," he said, guiding himself to her. "Well, you are on your back. That's all it's supposed to take."

She closed her eyes when he slowly slid inside her. "I love you."

He stopped mid-thrust to kiss the crown of her head. "Love you too."

Then they weren't talking anymore, and she opened her eyes, the press of his hips jarring her over and over with each thrust, and then he twisted and the head of his cock pressed against her g-spot and she gasped, groping at him, grabbing at his hips to pull him close again. He thrust harder, harder, pushing her knees toward her shoulders even further, and she trembled, panting, every stroke of him inside her sending another shiver up her spine.

He took her ankles in his hands and pulled them apart while he was still inside her, fucking her as he draped her legs around his waist, and she locked herself around him. She let her thighs open wider and his thrusts went deeper, harder, rougher. Her lips brushed his shoulder as she dragged her nails down his back, and he was groaning with each thrust, the bed shaking under them. He slid his arms around her and held her shoulders, holding her in place as he rammed into her, and she twisted her hips, her fingers sliding into his hair.

"Ned," she whispered.

"God, fuck, tell me you're close," he managed, biting her earlobe.

She didn't answer, and he groaned. "You were at the right angle before you pulled my legs down," she answered, voice jumping with his every thrust.

"If that's what you want, get on your knees."

She heard him scrabbling in the drawer when she slid out from under him, but even after she had bent over the side of their bed, the tips of her nipples barely dragging over the sheet and her naked ass in the air, he didn't return to her. 

"Open your legs," he ordered then, and when she did she heard some distant humming, and then something smooth and vaguely cool was sliding between her lips, vibrating up against her clit, and she shivered with pleasure as her husband's cock slid inside her again. "Hold it there," he said, and she nodded quickly, shaking as he sheathed his entire length between her legs. He fucked her hard, lifting her hips to the height of his, and she whimpered when he found the right angle. She bunched the sheet in her fists and squeezed him tight inside her, pushing from the heels of her hands to thrust her hips against him, the bullet vibrator jumping against her clit.

She bore down hard against him, screaming into the mattress as her orgasm peaked, and when he felt the gush of her against him he came, hard, his hips trembling. They stayed locked together, her inner flesh rippling tight against him as the vibrator hummed, until, slowly, she began to come down. She groaned and he let her collapse to the bed, and she relaxed and let the vibrator slide out of her, still humming to itself as it hit the floor.

"Gnh," she sighed, sinking to her knees, as her husband fell onto his back beside her, legs hanging over the side of the bed. She fought to get her breath back, sweeping her tangled hair out of her face.

"So what was that, twins?"

Ned stretched. "I thought you were supposed to do that thing where you lay on your back so gravity helps..."

"I can't fucking move," she moaned, pressing her forehead against the side of the bed.

"You're welcome," he said, a cocky smile in his voice.

She slowly fell back until she was lying on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling, skin slick with sweat, her blood boiling in her veins. "Ned?"

"Hmm?"

She couldn't see his face, so she closed her eyes. "You will wear the vest for me, won't you?"

"Yes," he said sleepily.

"Promise."

"I promise," he said, then sat up. "What're you doing down there?"

She shrugged very slightly. "I told you I can't move."

He reached down and pulled her up, and then they were both sprawled naked over the covers as the fan drifted lazily overhead, and she shivered down to her fingertips.

"It was like your water broke," he said, wonderingly. "If your water had broke while we were having sex. Which, by the way, I'm glad it didn't."

"You wouldn't touch me a full two weeks before my due date," she reminded him.

"Irrational fear of poking Jamie in the head with my dick," Ned said, the last of it drowned in an enormous yawn. "Anyway. Was that a good sign?"

"You mean like some sort of superstitious good omen, just because you managed to give me a g-spot orgasm?" She chuckled.

"That, and we both know I'm going to fuck you standing up one of these days," he shrugged. "You know. If we're counting."

Summoning supreme effort, she managed to roll onto her side to face him, her breast against his arm. "I'll take my chances," she said softly.

He stroked her hair. "You really think we're ready for another one?"

"Well... at least this time we know what we're getting into."

"Yeah," Ned agreed. "No sleep, baby food on everything..."

She nodded. "Someone who won't squirm out of my arms in two seconds," she murmured. "At least, not for a little while."

He shifted under her, and then his mouth was against her ear, his body curving protectively over hers. "I love you," he whispered, pulling her to him again.

"Love you too," she whispered.


End file.
